ISSUE ONE: Trams Yell Yes! | next poem →

I Watch Myself Loop

Alison McCabe

      Water filter,
      garbage night,

Neurons that fire together, wire together,
Donald Hebb says, as quoted by Rick Hanson, neuropsychologist,

in a teleseminar series of the Institute of Noetic Sciences'
Self-directed Neuroplasticity and the Brain.

If she wants to see me,
why doesn't she call?

Self-directed, meaning, you redirect to pleasant thoughts
when caught in worry or despair.

You are in control. When you
think indigestion might be a heart attack,

though you took the baby aspirin
and there's no pain in your arm,

smelling the tangerines might help.
Neurons that fire together wire together.

These primordial tracks, scanning
for alarm, aren't always necessary now.

Who loves me?
Why is there dust on the stairs?

Maybe, gluten really does tire me out.
Return to the tangerine.

It's 4:40 pm. I turn on the kettle.
Outside, the light caught in the tree is shimmering.

Alison McCabe is a poet and psychotherapist in Oakland and San Francisco. She loves how poetry demands her to pay attention, whittle away the unnecessary and get closer to the truth of a thing. She has previously published in the online journal, Literary Mamas. Alison can be reached at her professional website:

ISSUE ONE: Trams Yell Yes! | next poem →

ISSUE ONE: Trams Yell Yes!

Craig Kurtz
    Index Denied
    Reinvestment Order

Erin Dorney
    This Is Not A Poem About
       Fast Food


Rose Swartz

Tim Kahl
    Plasma Globe

Alison McCabe
    I Watch Myself Loop

Dan Boehl
   excerpts from whatever
       from @emoemoji

Vanessa Couto Johnson

Valentina Cano
    Planned Remodeling

Ryan Napier
    Seasonal Affective Disorder

Terry Wolverton
    Sizzle and Chew

Gregory Crosby
    Satan's Skull Glows White Hot

Lea Galanter
    When Lost in the Woods

Jake Sheff
    Stasis in Ragtime

Angelica Poversky

Mercedes Lawry
    In Late November, There Are
       Days of False Clemency